Be Happy, Not Content

Why You Should Never, Ever Settle

This past Friday I was in a friend’s wedding party. At the reception, while ordering a cocktail at the bar, I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation. Two guys were catching up. Idle chit-chat. Two quasi-acquaintances fumbling through a conversation until a natural break would come along to allow each to return to their respective tables. During this unavoidable eavesdrop, something stood out. One of the guys, when asked how he was doing, said that he “wasn’t great but content.” It was a throwaway comment, but it stuck with me. There was this sad permanence in his tone of voice. It was as if he had thrown in the towel, reconciled himself to the fact that he’s never going to be great and that it simply is what it is.

I’m not good at much. It’s true. I’m genuinely not saying that to garner sympathy, I’m just a realist. If you were to stack up what I’m good at in one column and what I’m bad at in another, the difference would be staggering. In fact, off the top of my head, my only discernible skills are being nearly unbeatable in Word Scramble on the iPhone and my savant-like knowledge of professional wrestling trivia. Call me crazy, but I don’t see Obama saying “Quick, somebody tell me who won the Royal Rumble in 1992 or the moon explodes!” anytime soon.

But, aside from the aforementioned “skills,” I can put a string of words together in an entertaining manner. I can write. And even if the masses aren’t entertained by my crap, I am. It makes me happy, not content. That fact, and that fact alone, is why I’m trying to make a living out of it. That fact also brings me to my point: Being content is not being happy.

These two very different notions often get confused. I'm not saying that being content is being unhappy, because it isn’t. Being content is being almost happy. It’s like saying you want to go gamble in Atlantic City but instead buying a handful of scratch-offs at a bodega in Bayonne. It’s like saying you feel like watching a Blu-ray of City Slickers but instead watching a VHS copy of City Slickers 2: The Legend Of Curly’s Gold. It's like saying you want to marry a Hooters girl but winding up with a Friendly's fry cook. In short, being content is settling. It means that you’re almost happy. It’s like saying you're going to win the gold in the Professional Wrestling Trivia Olympics but settling for silver. No? That doesn't exist? You’re sure that’s not a skill? Crap. Anyway, why settle for almost? Laziness? Lack of ambition? Fear of failure? Your secret love of City Slickers 2: The Legend Of Curly’s Gold?